The Room
by intergalacticbooty
Summary: Dean Ambrose is a psychiatric patient with a haunting past. Roman is a fresh divorcee starting a new job as an orderly looking after him. Will contain sexual content, explicitly consensual, straitjacket kink, mental illness, and mentions of murder and past abuse. Based on a wrestlingkinkmeme prompt and is cross-posted there. Reviews greatly appreciated and wanted.
1. Chapter 1

Graveyard shift at an insane asylum that Roman had to drive 3 hours just to get to wasn't exactly his ideal career choice. But hell, he needed the money. Needed to get back on his feet after his divorce, had to keep up on child support, and so on and so forth.

And boy did this shit pay well. They trained him well, needed muscle like him to deal with and intimidate patients into staying in line. Legal submission holds, administering tranquilizers, and security procedures. They gave him dark gray scrubs to wear, distinct from the pure white clothing he told all the patients were to wear.

It would be quiet for the most part, they assured him, and majority of the job would entail patrolling much like a security guard of sorts and ensuring the night owls stayed in line and were as free from harm as possible.

He was nervous, naturally, but was relieved to find that facility to be far tamer than anything the mainstream media wanted to convey. Most patients were disturbed and easily frightened or startled, but they weren't malicious or cruel by nature. Some would retaliate as if they were if situations got extreme he was warned, but the more Roman researched and learned about his new position, the more he realized it was due to horrible lives these people endeavored or striking out on the genetic lottery.

Usually the patients were allowed to roam the halls freely, up until curfew. Some could get passes to stay up past 10 for good behavior or some were permitted late night supervised wandering and activities in the game room if their given mental discrepancies made sleeping at night difficult. The level of freedom they were given was a fresh approach, one the head doctor of the asylum assisted on.

"They're human, Mr. Reigns, not caged animals or beasts. We treat them with respect here." And Roman appreciated that.

Which is why now, leaving his house at 8:30 PM to head out towards his new job, he felt pretty damn good in what he was doing. Helping those who suffered in some manner and working for a fair employer…well there was no shame in that, was there?

The ride doesn't seem nearly as long as he imagined and he does arrive half an hour before his shift, the aid of a nice cup of coffee and a couple energy bars ensuring he was alert and eager to work. When he finally gets buzzed in he's given a rundown of the asylum's current state tonight, that it's been quiet and whatnot by the head of night security Dustin. Dustin's a cool dude, although Roman is a little puzzled when another orderly calls him 'Goldie', but doesn't question it.

"So, you'll be in charge of the tenth floor tonight."

"Tenth? They told me at orientation and training that there are not patients on the tenth floor." Roman figures it might have just been a mix up or misunderstanding on his part.

"Well…there is only one patient that stays up there. They don't like to tell the newbies at orientation about it, but you were recruited specifically for the job." Dustin leads him to

Well now Roman is just perplexed and a bit anxious but slides his hair back into a tight bun as he locks up his hoodie, wallet, and everything else not needed for the job. "So uh, one patient, huh? Sounds like the start of a horror flick or something."

"Nah, it's…nothing like that. We house primarily non-criminal patients here. Or petty crimes like thievery or something. People who wouldn't be able to live out in society." The head security guard explains, Roman following him into the pristine elevator before he presses the top, tenth floor button. "We have one criminal patient."

"And lemme guess, that's the one I got, huh?"

"Yes, but…he's a special case. Dean, his name is. Dean Ambrose."

"Does he mind being called Dean?"

"No, not at all, but…uh, avoid using his last name or anything about parents." Dustin continues as the elevator opens to a room identical to the other patients' floors, but devoid of any other staff. "He's got a criminal record…murdered a couple of pedophiles back in the day." It's said so bluntly that Roman's head almost spins before he's partially jogging to keep up with Dustin.

"Well, uh, can't say I blame them."

"No, neither can I, but chopping people to bits and an overall sense of disassociation this kid has, well…he's just not able to function in society. Maybe one day, but it isn't any day soon. Head Doc. Rollins really thinks he can make a break through with him. I don't know if I buy it, but in the meantime, you're in charge of taking care of him, big dog."

"Uh…any special procedures?"

"Not really. At least for now. Dean's been one of his 'good moods' lately, so it's pretty much the standard procedure for any night owl patient. Monitor him, talk to him, y'know…just, keep him relaxed. Remember your walkie talkie and there's a panic button in every room on the floor."

And with that, Roman is left alone, with the singular patient room '1001' reflecting back at him.


	2. Chapter 2

Roman swipes his clearance keycard into the patient's room lock, waiting for the light to turn green before he can type in the code given to him by Dustin. Then, finally, he works through two different old-fashioned locks with standard metal keys. The orderly stiffens his stance then, holds his jaw tightly and takes in a steadying breath before he opens the door.

The room is bright, all four corners of it padded and pure white with a soft, plushy consistency to it. Roman takes a hesitant step in, eyes, drawing over to the lump in the corner, a white sheet and soft pillow visible with a small tuft of reddish brown hair peeking over the sheet. Said lump is…well, for lack of a better word, it's jiggling.

"Dean?"

"About damn time you showed up, dude…" Out pops up a head, messy short locks and wide, droopy blue eyes with a scruffy face. "…'s time for nightly coloring…but you ain't Toni."

"No, I'm…I'm Roman…" He takes a couple steps forward into the padded room, Dean retracting a little bit against the soft wall, but he's got a small smirk on that scruffy face that reveals a hint of dimples. He's…shit, he's all kinds of cute.

"Said it'd be a new guy…didn't say you'd be so fuckin' good lookin'. You a model or some shit, big guy? Or maybe a pornstar? Bet you have a huge dick, yeah, mmhmm."

"W-What?" Roman chokes on his tongue for a moment before shaking his head. "Nevermind, Dean, how about you and I go to the playroom so you can color a bit, hmm?" It's a nice, even temperament and Dean huffs a little, but slowly comes to his feet, a small, stuffed bunny that has to be at least 20 years old and is covered in stitches is closely grasped in Dean's hand.

Huh, so that's how it is.

Regardless, the patient follows Roman without any further compliant, but boy does he talk. It's random musings about anything and everything that go into random tangents. He starts off talking about his bunny, how its name is Mitch and he got it when he was 4. Then he goes on to talk about how long rabbits live and how much they fuck. And then he jumps to the subject of Easter and how he ganked a priest on Easter Sunday about 3 years back for fondling a choir boy.

Roman simply nods, because there's not much else he can do. His ears are exhausted by the time they make it down the hall and to the playroom, but Dean is quickly distracted by one of the coloring books. It's an adult one, with intricate patterns and Dean pulls up a chair to one of the pristine white tables and crosses his legs in the chair, Mitch firmly in his lap as he flips through several pages of already colored in patterns.

The orderly only gets a couple glances, but they seemed to be shaded in with extensive detail and care, much to his surprise, and when Dean finishes his thumbing through he stops on design that only has sparse coloring to it, reaching a hand over to the plastic container holding colored pencils in the middle of the table, continuing on the design.

"Hush, little baby, don't say a word…" A strange rasp that carries the tune of the lullaby as Dean colors away causes a weird, sickening feeling to creep up Roman's spine. It's almost eerie how the younger male's voice echoes through the play room, but Roman doesn't protest, simply keeping himself seated across from Dean.

Most of the first hour goes along like that, before Roman clears his throat, deciding he might as well talk to the guy. "So, uh...whatcha doing there?" He asks, motioning his hands towards the coloring book, Dean switching on and off rapidly between two or three colored pencils in a strange cycle with frantic hands.

"Blendin' em…gotta get the right shade of red, mmhmm. Where you come from, big man? You a tribal dude or something?" Dean uses Mitch's hand to point towards Roman's tattoo.

"I'm Samoan, yeah. But I was born and raised in the US. Hawaii and Florida, mostly." Dean hums at that appreciatively, before nipping at Mitch's left ear.

Dean shakes his head for a moment, then stops moving all together, as if he's struggling to process something before continues. "Never been to those places, not uh, bet it's pretty…t-tell me about 'em?"

"About Hawaii and Florida?"

The reddish brown mop falls forward rapidly as Dean nods in affirmative.

"Well, one of the things I notice the most is the difference in smell. Salt of the sea…there's nothing quite like it…" And Roman goes on to tell the tale of where he grew up, where it still visits sometimes despite settling in Ohio. Dean's eyes widen in surprise and excitement here or there at his tales, ever so often making bizarre or inappropriate comments or even threats here or there, but Roman simply nods them off.

One of the overnight chefs comes up around 2:30 to bring Dean dinner, which composes of mashed potatoes, diced up ham, and green beans with a small cup of apple juice. A brownie for dessert, too. Everything is plastic, of course, and Roman has to quickly get rid of the dirty plastic and Styrofoam because Dean starts to panic at the mess.

He devours the brownie, too, Roman wiping the chocolate-y mess off of his fingertips with a wet nap before reaching for a clean one to get his mouth. Dean grabs his hand then instead and Roman freezes, those ice blue eyes looking almost predatory as the patient runs the flat of his tongue along the older male's thumb.

It sends a shiver down Roman's spine, how bold and sensual the act is and for a fleeting moment he imagines slipping his thumb between those pretty pink lips for the man to suck on, Dean's gaze and firm grip entrancing the orderly before Roman pulls his hand back quickly.

He finishes cleaning Dean's face off after that, brushing all the crumbs of chocolate from his soft stubble before returning him to the playroom to read a book or two.

The rest of the night goes on without a hitch and when Roman locks Dean back up for the day, that red brown mop of mania settles in nicely in the padded plush of his room, before honest to god winking at Roman.

"What the hell have I gotten myself into?" He huffs out at the end of his shift, pushing his head into the steering wheel of his old pickup, nearly knocking himself into the ceiling of the vehicle's horn beeps.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the week goes along just the same. Dean flirting between inappropriate comments, bizarre snarls, and singing of nursery rhymes. Honestly, Roman is rather impressed and finds himself getting more and more comfortable with the patient. Even with Dean's psychosis and severe depression, he can tell he's a pretty chill guy that was dealt a shit hand. He knows that several murders and the anguish Dean has experienced leaves little room for full recovery, but the orderly hopes one day Dean will be released and maybe they can be friends.

Or more?

Regardless, Roman buries any suggestive thoughts he has aside, resolving to befriend Dean in a genuine manner, not just as a professional, and discloses personal things. Like his divorce, even mentioning his daughter which Dean smiles at.

"Kids are awesome, man, yeah…cherish her. So many don't." And Roman doesn't want to delve deeper into what Dean means, but he does remember the comments Dustin made about explicitly not addressing the patient's parents and he thinks he can connect the dots.

Roman works a week straight before he gets a day off and honestly, he kinda isn't sure what to do. He sleeps most of the day, his body seemingly already adjusting to the midnight shift life. But his even feels empty. He just sits on his couch, flicking mindless through what few channels he gets on the basic cable that he can currently afford. Although he reasons with the new job that he'll be able to afford nicer things now, but the largest perk isn't the money anymore. It's that quirky patient that's all his to look after.

He shouldn't be so possessive, but when it dawns on him that another orderly is watching Dean, the beer he was sipping on suddenly seems sour.

There's a sigh of relief when Roman slips on his grey scrubs around 8 the next evening, staring at his reflection before he pins his long hair up into a tight bun, ready for the drive ahead him.

What he isn't ready for is to be greeted by head doc Rollins. The guy had to be genius, considering he was Roman's age, if not younger, and was renowned enough to establish his own psychiatric hospital with breakthrough therapies and treatments. His work was admirable and he treated both his patients and employees with a sort of respect and dignity that was rare to come by in this day and age.

That being said, Roman doesn't think he'll ever quite understand the two-tone bleach job going on, but he doesn't question it, especially since he only ever saw the man during training and orientation. Dr. Rollins is a busy, important man and Roman is a bit perplexed that he's being approached directly by him.

"Mr. Reigns, is it?"

"Yes, Doctor…" All straight-laced and professional and the man chuckles at Roman.

"Relax, big guy, you can call me Seth. But, uh, I need to talk with you while we head up to Dean's room." He motions for Roman to follow and he does quickly, having already locked up his personal effects and gathered his keys and other affinities for the night.

"Is somethin' up with Dean?" He tries to cover the panic in his voice, tries not to let on to the fact he's grown personally attached to the younger male. Based on the swarmy smirk from Seth, Roman guesses he completely failed at shielding his emotion. Christ, it's only been a week and he's already this attached to a patient who probably thinks of him as nothing but a nuisance.

"I'm going to let you in on a little secret." Seth begins and Roman hates it, wishes he would just get to the point as he clicks 10 on the elevator. "Dean has…he's never responded this well to an orderly before. Or any nurses. Or even to me. After an extended session he'll be good for a day, maybe two tops, and before Toni left we managed to get him on 'good behavior' for four goddamn days straight." The doctor motions for Roman to keep following back past Dean's room. "You did it for a week." He smiles then, clasping the larger male on the shoulder before motioning him towards what Roman assumed was a broom closet.

Instead it's revealed to him to be a surveillance room, a master one by the locks of it, with cameras for every single office, patient room, hallway…literally dozens of cameras and on the top row in the farthest right monitor he finds Dean's room, a crumbled mass in the corner facing away from the camera. "That good behavior went right out the window the night we had an orderly that wasn't you with him." Seth rolls up his sleeve to reveal stitches, the pattern indicating it was from a human bite.

"Jesus fuck…Dean did that?" Seth nods in affirmation and the Samoan cringes. He knew Dean was capable of murder, shouldn't be so surprised by this, but for some reason it made him feel a little ill.

"The orderly originally scheduled for last night is worse off…a concussion." He tsks then, adjusting his dark framed glasses before he leans up, pressing a couple buttons underneath Dean's monitor, the camera turning to static before it shuts off completely. "I want you to listen to me right now, Mr. Reigns. The breakthrough I was having with Dean when Toni was here was incredible, but…it was nothing compared to the progress I've been able to make with him during the day this past week. The things he's opened up about, admitted to, and starting to understand. I thought it would take years to have him discuss."

Roman feels a small swell of pride there, thankful that somehow, in some way, his presence really was helping Dean, but it still confuses him as to why the monitor was turned off, but the doctor moves in close, mere inches from Roman as he speaks in a low tone.

"I know this is a lot to ask of you, but until Dean is stable enough I want you working as much as possible with him, seven days a week if possible. I'll give you full benefits, up your pay an extra 10 bucks an hour and your weekends will be overtime pay. A retirement plan in full. Complete access to the kitchen and its midnight staff, anything you want." He breathes out slowly. "All I ask in return is you take care of Dean's needs during you shift. Any of his needs." Seth pauses for a moment there, giving Roman a knowing smile. "Anything. Which is why during your shift Dean's monitor is off, alright? The panic button, everything else will be on. But I need you to be there for him. Do you accept?"

He doesn't even hesitate, the extra perks barely registering to him because if it means it's what Dean needs to get better, Roman won't even second guess it. "Absolutely."


	4. Chapter 4

Roman's hands are a little unsteady as he punches in the code for Dean's room, several books retrieved from the playroom because apparently due to Dean's behavior, Seth has advocated he be restrained for the time being.

"I'm not fond of it myself, but Ambrose neither weak nor small and we honestly aren't sure how he'll react." The doctor informed him. "And with the monitor being switched off…we cannot take any chances." The second sentence was said a little quieter, before Seth passes off his own personal cell phone number to the orderly, informing him if he needed anything at all, work related or not, to call." Seth paused then, laying another trusting hand on Roman's shoulder. "Dean hasn't slept since the last night you were here…if…if you can try and get him to rest, it would mean a lot. He doesn't bode well without sleep."

Dean twitched a little when the door clicks open, Roman slowly creeping inside as the heavy frame clanks shut, leading them in the soft, padded plush of the room. The Samoan hesitates for a second before sliding his white slip-ons off, being barefoot as Dean preferred to be himself, the cushioning of the room pleasant on his toes.

There's crisscrossing and complex white leather straps against Dean's back, the orderly realizing now that restraints meant a straitjacket, that the younger male was rather helpless and quite at the orderly's mercy and that sent a weird buzz up Roman's spine. The room was absent of his sheet, but the pillow remained in the leftmost back corner with Mitch the bunny propped against it.

"Hey, Dean…" He reaches out a hand to the back of those wild locks, seemingly wilder before, before thinking better of it. The form twitches again then before it stills as if in realization, Dean contorting to stare at him and it suddenly becomes apparent to Roman why he IS here.

Those blue eyes are wide and blown, his pupils tiny pinpricks, hardly visible in that lighting of the room with blood shot whites and there's a firm leather mask that is snug against Dean's lower face, reminding the orderly of Hannibal Lector, with small holes and slits for his nostrils for breathing.

"Oh, Dean…" He breathes out, sliding down to his knees as Dean contorts further, sliding his body back into a bridge type position, small grunts and grumbles spilling from beyond the mask, his eyes dampening as he continues to squirm and arch his back. "….hey, hey, you're gonna hurt yourself, stop, okay?" Roman grows bold then, pulling Dean closer to him despite his struggling, feeling a bit bad at how easily he can move him, how the other male can't resist and he remembers the fact the monitor is off and the fact he could get away with next to anything and it makes him want to cry, because how many people have taken advantage of Dean before? Hurt him and manipulate him and he wishes he could thank Seth but also wants to pound his face in. Because how could he shove this responsibility on Roman? How could he trust Roman so thoroughly when he could turn to be another monster in Dean's long history of battling them.

Lost in his own thoughts for a moment, Roman almost doesn't recognize the rhythm of Dean's movements for a moment until he stares down, the younger male staring him up with manic, questioning eyes before nuzzling his open palm.

"Hmm, it's okay…it'll be okay." He begins petting and rubbing at Dean's scalp, those long eyelashes fluttering as he seems to relax, his head flopping against Roman's lap. "Would you like me to sing you a song…help you sleep, babe?" Where the fuck had that pet name come from?

Dean nods quickly against his thigh, burying his face into the gray scrubs.

Roman didn't consider himself the best singer, in fact he was kinda god awful, but he began his little singing anyways, selecting the lullaby from their first night. "Hush little baby don't say a word…" The low timbre of his voice causing the patient to begin fading quickly, the methodical rubbing allowing him to drift off into heavy, deep sleep for the first time in nearly two days.

He dreams of a hand across his chest, running down his spine, between his legs and caressing his face. In the past these were hands of his mother and father or the friends and fellow drug addicts they pimped him out to in his childhood. Those hands in his slumber were rough and painful and their lips tasted of black tar and blood.

But the hands in this dream were not theirs. No, these hands were soft and gentle, calm whispers against his trembling flesh. The soft tickling of long, black hair ran across his face, fingers thick and calloused from years of hard work, soft ghosting of thick lips over his own. Dean couldn't reach up and his eyes were sealed shut, couldn't fight against the touches, but how he adored them, the soft slid of a hand over his throbbing sex, a hot mouth over his nipples. 'Please, please, oh please…' Dean rambled on in this dream state, a soft, familiar chuckle rumbling as he begged. Just as Dean began to open his eyes to see the sweet torturer, he was woken back to the dim lighting of his cell, greeted by Roman who was stroking at his locks in methodical manner. He was half hard, could fell it in the confines of his own white scrubs but who the fuck wouldn't be after a dream like that?

Roman breathed out a sigh of relief, staring down at his watch as Dean managed to get four hours of sleep. He was even more revealed when he saw the younger male's eyes were more normal, more lax with the slight glazed over edgy gaze he had become accustomed to when they had gotten comfortable with one another. "G'morning." He teases, brushing back some more locks from Dean's forehead before smiling softly.

That sweet smile would never cease to make Dean's heart flutter. He squirms a little then, though, trying to sit up and is relieved when Roman pushes him upwards, laying him gently against the plush wall where Dean's head lulls a little, still in a slumber of a good nap and the anti-psychotics he was injected with by a nurse earlier.

"I wanna take your mask off, okay? Just uh…promise not to bite?" Roman's voice unsteady and Dean nods in assent, wishing he had bit Rollins's arm harder for undoubtedly telling Roman about it. After a few seconds of fumbling with the head straps, fingers slide across Dean's jaw and face as he tugs the mask off.

The patient stretches his jaw then, Roman reaching to caress the bone there, finding Dean's stubble to be a bit thicker than usual before he tilts his head to the side, catching Roman's thumb in his mouth then. His gaze is heated then, beginning to lick and suck at the skin there. The orderly is very aware of how inappropriate this is, but he sits there, also aware of the monitor being off, and allowing Dean to suck it for several minutes, beginning to pant and moan before he pulls his hand back slowly.

He doesn't comment on the fact he can see how hard Dean is, how the younger male had spread his legs out and was nearly gyrating against the soft, giving plush of the floor. Or how he himself was half hard.

"Thanks, um, for takin' that off…" Dean's voice a hoarse, tired grumble as he fidgets a little in the jacket, his arms twisting slightly but nothing compared to the disturbing contortions from earlier that night.

"No problem, man, I trust you, y'know?" Roman starts, thumbing through one of the books he brought in before laying it down against the floor, right at the chapter he knew Dean had just started. "I thought maybe you'd like to read a little, even if we can't be in the playroom."

"Doc is gonna be mad, bro." The patient retorts, even as he scoots forward to find his place, Roman settling back next to him.

"What he doesn't know ain't gonna hurt him, now read…and relax a little." He places a hand at the back of the straitjacket where it covers Dean's neck, rubbing there.

And he does read, except he opts to read aloud to Roman the first time ever, the older male flipping through the pages when prompted to do so, getting lost in Dean's animated voice as he tells a tale with such passion and vigor. It's beautiful, really, and maybe Roman enjoys a little bit too much how he stammers and stumbles over words here or there if the orderly rubs at the back just so, or tugs on his pinking ears.

Roman also gets to feed him a small container of strawberry Jell-O, a chopped up apple, and uses a straw so he can sip at some orange juice because the medication they had to give him to even out his mood gives him all types of stomach aches if he eats too much. Roman tries to tell himself he doesn't like how Dean's tongue curls devilishly around the plastic spoon, his eyes burrowing holes in Roman's own grey ones. And maybe burns something into his heart and cock, too.

He really wishes his shift didn't have to end, that he could somehow be Dean's 24/7 but he can't, but he assures him he'll be back the next night. And the night after that. And the night after that. That he'd always be there no matter what and Dean tries his hardest not to smile, but those dimples are anything but deceitful as Roman slips his shoes back on, opting to leave Dean's face mask off as his temperament has clearly mellowed throughout the night.

"S-See you tomorrow, big guy, right?" The patient says and Roman nods as he hoists the books from the playroom under his arm. He grows bold, or perhaps stupid, as he leans forward and kisses Dean's forehead.

There's an overlay between Roman and the early bird morning sessions that Dean has with Seth, the doctor opting to turn the monitor back on when he first arrives, Roman leaving without saying a word and that suits the doctor just fine. Although he is taken aback somewhat because Dean does a lot of things. He spits and scratches and bites and growls and makes inappropriate comments and says bizarre, violent or sexual things and recounts the glee he had in his murders. But he's never done anything outwardly sexual in a physical manner.

Some of Rollins's patients do, but he reasons with them, explains that self-pleasure is something to be done in privacy and whatnot but Dean was never one taught as such. Because he never had a desire to be sexual, never flashed his dick to nurses or Seth and never made a habit of jerking off in the playroom. Seth figures it stems from Dean's own disgust with what's happened to his body in the past, that he doesn't see himself as a sexual being or drawing pleasure from sex. Dean had disclosed in a more recent session that he used to sell himself as an adult to make ends meet, that his hole and his cock were nothing more than means of an income between shitty, part time jobs and what little government assistance he could get as a single, able-bodied male.

Which is why Seth nearly chokes on his morning coffee, eyes bulging a little as he sees Dean has managed to maneuver the pillow, hands free, between his thighs. He's humping violently, hips snapping forward as he shoves his face into the padded wall. Rollins wants to look away, because it's intimate and if something truly dangerous arises then he'll take action but he notices that Dean's mouth is forming words between his bucking and he decides then that if something is causing this action, that Dean is somehow deriving pleasure then he needs to figure out what it is. He turns on the sound for that particular monitor then.

Pants and groans filter through the office's speakers, Dean making noises that are a cross between frustration and the sweetest arousal. "Oh…o-oh God, Ro, PLEASE!"


	5. Chapter 5

_**Just a small author's note: Thank you so much for all the feedback and reviews. Those are really what keeps me going and helps me draw motivation to continue my writing. I hope you guys enjoy this next chapter!**_

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Dean is finally taken out of his restraints to bathe around 7am, the ease of the shower's pressures in the open stall allowing him to relax. The nurse doesn't make any comment about the cumstains in his underwear, not that he gives a fuck.

But part of him is irritated, because that nurse shouldn't be able to see that. He didn't come for them, he came for Roman. And it terrifies him as much as the scrubbing against his backside annoys him. He's not a child for fuck's sake, he can wash himself.

Regardless, there's a bizarre, bubbling feeling crawling its way into his chest. Because Roman makes him feel in a way he never thought possible. He wants to hold him, loves to be touched by him, would cut open his own chest and serve the man his heart and organs on a silver platter if he asked. Because he wants. He wants with every fiber of his being and wouldn't hesitate to kill or fuck or steal to just feel those lips on his forehead once more.

Roman had to be disgusted of him though, didn't he? He's seen some of Dean's scars, knows some of the things he done and still does, and it pains Dean a little as the nurse dresses him in fresh scrubs, the memory of Roman looking at him last night with such sadness. Did Roman pity him? He hoped not, he didn't want charity. He wanted…fuck, he wanted his love.

Despite being in a much better mood than before, he's still escorted in cuff-like restraints down to Doctor Rollins's office, mind still in a daze as he keeps replaying the night before, the way Roman gave him gentle touches so easily, the taste of his finger, and the sweet smile as he read to him. And the gentle touch of his fingers against Dean's ears that the patient hadn't realized would be so sensitive.

"Hello, Dean." The doctor is looking outside of the window, nodding a thanks over to the nurse before sitting down across from the couch at his desk, Dean laying across the supple leather with ease, a cheeky little grin on his expression. "You're in an awfully good mood. Much better than our last meeting." It's said with a light hint of teasing, Dean scowling in return.

"And that's a problem how?"

"No problem whatsoever. I'm just pleased." Rollins retorts, smooth and cool despite the change of his patient's expression, the auburn haired male laying back against the couch. "I wanted to continue our discussion from our last session. You began telling me about a man named Phil in Chicago?" He flips through his notes, making sure to maintain light eye contact with Dean, as staring too intently tended to upset him.

"Yeah, heh, Phil…or CM Punk was his street name. Cool cat, y'know? Didn't even make me suck his dick to stay in his house for a couple o' nights…" Dean began, recounting how in his earlier teen years, after his very first kill, how he had evaded police and ran off to Chicago from Cincinnati, how he had rejoiced in killing some rapist bitch. She had thought it was cool and cute to fuck underage boys, fucking 14 year olds, and got away with it because the court system was fucked. No one paid attention, not one tried to dig deeper and find how she blackmailed these boys and how a couple of them had been fucked by her boyfriend. Dean snorted at the memory, because blackmailing or being raped by other men or not she was raping kids.

And he didn't think anything of ganking her, not especially when he flashed his dimples at her, how it was so easy to get her perverted self a little tipsy. How he had timidly lied about never being with a girl, because of course men and women had done what they wanted with him from his youth. She took the bait, knew he was underaged, and tried to suck his dick.

It was easy to put a bullet through someone's head when their head was buried between your thighs, her blood red lipstick staining his thighs as much as her own blood did.

But that was their last session. In this session he discussed Punk, how cool he was and how he got Dean to stop doing anything harder than smoking a cigarette or drinking. "He had a fucked up past himself, man. Dad was a drunkard and a drug addict that beat him and his Mom to shit and I knew if I kept tryin' ta shoot up I'd be stuck like that…I'd become a monster myself and I just…it was hard, going through withdrawal but he helped me out a lot with it." Dean grows teary-eyed then, rubbing at his face quickly before Seth offered him a tissue, which he declined instantly.

"What ever happened to Punk?"

"It…fuck, this world ain't made for good people. Dude took in all kinds of kids, gave 'em a safe place to get clean or shoot up in case it was necessary. But you get a lotta traffic from shitty, ungrateful lil' fucks…" Dean sucked in a breath then. "…some piece of shit cracked out boyfriend of a girl Punk had taken in tried to come and force her back with him…Punk got a fuckin' bullet in the chest for that one, trying to stop that fucknut from takin' her back. I…I pounded his face in, would have offed him if Summer hadn't been such a fuckin' mess…but with someone else dead I had to leave, had to get the fuck out or else they'd find me…."

Seth nods in understanding then, thanking Dean for sharing with him. Their session time wasn't up but he knew this was a lot for Dean to recount, the patient growing fidgety and more drawn into the couch, avoiding eye contact. "I know we have half an hour left, Dean, but if you would like, we can stop for now?"

In the past, he always said yes. He always wanted outoutoutoutnow and Seth understood it because he pushed him, asked him questions and to explore within himself his most painful memories. He prematurely shuts his notebook, ready to phone for some nurses before Dean shakes his head.

"Nah, we…uh, we can talk some more, Doc…I-I think." And honestly, Seth fights the urge to tear up himself because Dean's growth, his progress, it's something he never thought he would have the honor of helping with, of seeing it so dramatically.

"Alright, Dean, thank you…how about we talk about after Chicago?" He settles back against his chair, easily finding where his notes left off.

"Well, uh, Punk, see…he had these aspirations of becoming a wrestler one day. I thought it was kinda bullshit myself, but I did like it a lot as a kid, found myself goin' back to it no matter how old I got…so I decided since Punk was gone I was gonna take his place. At least try it, y'know?" Seth tilts his head in interest, because he never knew this about his patient, had looked up all he could about court cases and health records and naturally there wasn't much because he was impeccably elusive, only getting caught due to his latest killing two years prior.

"Really now?"

"Uh huh. Made up a persona for myself and everything. Jon Moxley." He stretched his hands out then, splaying his fingers out as if to signify motioning to a sign or billboard. "Never made it too big, but, uh…I joined this lil' crazy ass company called CZW. We did some fucked up shit, but it…it was awesome. Got people cheerin' for me and everything."

"That had to be significant for you, right? I'd imagine getting that praise…having those fans and that support was a great feeling." Seth smiles then, recognizing the fondness and proud expression on his patient's face.

"Yeah, it was a pretty sweet gig. Made some money and felt like I was the man. Even in matches where they'd have me in a dog collar, blood drippin' down my face and shit…I felt like I was a boss. Like none of that other shit mattered, y'know?" He snorts then, expression darkening and Seth knows he's on the cusp of admitting something.

"What happened while you were in CZW, Dean?"

Dean grits his teeth then, digging into the leather of the couch. "Got dumb one night…popped a couple o' pills with my tag partner Sami. He thought…thought I wanted him or somethin' but I didn't…he fuckin'…fuckin' tried to shove his dick in me and I…I stabbed him in the stomach. Fucker lived but, uh…he spilled the beans about me bein' under 18…fucker got me fired and I…shit. It wasn't fuckin' fair, I loved it…I-I fuckin' loved it and that son of a bitch, he…"

"Dean, Dean…" Seth stands up then, noticing the erratic behavior of his patient and quickly took his hands in his own, pulling them away from the supple leather of the couch. "…how about we talk about something else for the last few minutes. Something you'd like to talk about?" He sits on his desk then, smiling down at his slowly calming patient.

"Roman, uh, he's…c-cool dude, y'know? I like…I like him a lot." He says it shyly, almost shamefully and rubs the back of his neck then, looking down.

"Oh really now?"

"Y-Yeah." And the rest of the session Dean just rambled on about Roman, the words spilling easily as he told him different things about him, like his tattoo and his daughter and his time in Hawaii and the cool things he saw and what he cooked and how he always smelled so good.

Well, after that session Seth certainly has a lot of interesting notes to reference to decide the next course of treatment.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author's Note: Hope you guys are enjoying the tale thus far! I apologize if it's a bit choppy but this is the longest chapter thus far and I wanted to do that as thanks for all the wonderful feedback I've been getting. Please continue to review, it means a lot and helps me grow as an author. Enjoy!**_

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Days and weeks bleed into months, a gentle and dangerous dance playing between Dean and Roman as the patients seems to regain his sanity. Meanwhile, as Roman looks into those deep blue souls and see three decades worth of torture behind them, his sure his own sanity might be slipping away.

Dean makes it worse, too, with is little flirtations, but Roman never pushes. Because he refuses to be one of them, one of the people Dean will bring up in a hushed tone, in stolen whispers of darker years. So they continue their little dance, stealing small kisses on foreheads and sucking of calloused fingers when others aren't watching.

One night Dean is deep into coloring, mouth securely locked onto one of Mitch's worn ears as he carefully blends cyan and green to make just the right shade of seafoam that he wanted for the wave pattern he was filling it. Roman has no idea where doctor Rollins got it, but somehow the man had gotten his hands on an adult coloring book full of Polynesian tattoos. The orderly had mentioned how fascinated Dean seemed to be with his own, tracing the outline of it at least 15 times each night, like some type of sacred ritual.

"Don't got no tattoos, but yours is…'s fucking cool, man." Dean seemed to find a new thing to be fascinated by when it came to Roman on a normal basis. Roman, too, found several things fascinating about Dean, perhaps one each day, but he was more silent about his interest due to the other male being rather aversive to too much attention on himself.

His most recent object of interest in Roman's hair and when Dean abruptly stops his diligent coloring of waves he sits up, staring at Roman.

"Everything okay?"

"Can…can I see your hair, man? You always got it up…" He's taken aback for a moment at the request, the younger male's expression transforming to something rather dejected when the silence goes on far too long.

"No, Dean, don't be sad, I can, uh…I can show you it for sure." That dimpled little grin makes Roman's heart flutter as he moves from across the table, taking his hair out of its bun. It's rather long, longer than it's been for years now. Roman hasn't paid much attention because it spends most of its time up and out of his face, but Dean's eyes bulge as he takes in the inky black curtain of thick, lush locks.

" 's really pretty…" He hums, hesitantly reaching a hand out before Roman nods. Dean's hands are gently, twirling through them ever so slowly before he leans in, sniffing at the ends. There's a big, dopey smile there. "…so that's why you smell like coconuts, huh? Smell so goddamn good…" It's a guttural growl of a tone and if Roman jerks off to the memory of that raspy voice when he showers early the next morning, then it's no one's business but his.

And from that night onward, Roman would take his hair out for Dean to play with here and there idly to calm his nerves. Although the Samoan would be lying if he said he didn't get pleasure from it, that he didn't relish every touch and smile and sultry slip of the patient's tongue.

He'd sneak in a small container of coconut oil, too, and at the end of his shift he'd rub some into Dean's hair. Not too much of course, because the younger male's hair could get pretty greasy very easily, but enough for the scent to linger.

Things come to a halt when Roman has to travel to Florida for a court hearing to fight for more visitation rights. He's got a strong argument, a well-paying job, and is even looking into moving eventually to a true house instead of his rinky dink apartment. And as such, he wants to see his baby girl more, deserves that at least seeing as though his wife was the one caught cheating, who broke their family.

He preps Dean for his travel.

"I'll only be gone for a couple of nights, okay? And you have to be nice to the other orderly." He lets Dean know a month in advance and reminds him every night after.

"Don't like no other orderlies."

"Don't care, you gotta be at least civil with him, alright?" And Dean would begrudgingly nod in agreement. "I'll bring you back a souvenir, okay?" Because he had every intention of taking his baby girl to Disneyworld while he was there. Dean perks up at that revelation through small sniffles.

"Get somethin' nice for Mitch, okay?" And Roman isn't exactly sure how the hell he's going to find a present for a stuffed rabbit, but he imagines his daughter will be able to help.

Roman successfully wins half custody of his daughter and finds his wife is moving closer to Ohio and it would be no more than 2 hours to pick up his baby girl for weekends and holidays and despite how nasty the initial divorce was, his wife is surprisingly civil and flexible.

On the plane ride back to Ohio, he dreams of introducing Dean to his daughter, that bright dimpled smile grinning down at her as he introduces her to Mitch as well.

When he arrives back at the asylum, he's greeted by Dr. Rollins who debriefs him about Dean's status. The doctor sounds impressed, surprised, even, as he recounts how well behaved Dean was, how civil he managed to be. "There was a small hiccup in which he threw a dinner tray against the playroom wall," Seth starts as he trails down the hall with Roman, the orderly tutting to himself. Poor fool obviously didn't get rid of the dirty dishes in time. "…but save for that, it's been peachy."

The smile Dean gives him as he opens the padded room's door is something otherworldly. So wide and bright and honest and for the first time Roman can see Dean's eyes are smiling, too, as the corners of those soft blues crinkle.

"Missed me?"

He doesn't even speak as the door shuts behind Roman, jetting across the padded floor on bare feet, nearly molding himself against the older male. "I behaved…"

"I heard from Dr. Rollins…you've been making so much progress, Dean." And the younger male sits back on the plush floor then, looking a little embarrassed. Roman decides to quickly change the topic, reaching into the deep pockets of his scrubs to reveal a brown bag. "I brought Mitch something, if you'd like to see?"

He nods eagerly then. "Fuck yeah, dude, I wanna see!" He pulls Mitch into his lap then as Roman opens the baggy, revealing a kid's t-shirt that's just the right size for the stuffed animal. It's a pretty cliché Disneyworld shirt with Mickey on it, but as Dean shimmies Mitch through it, he looks as if he's going to sob.

"D-Dean, is…is that okay?" Roman sits down next to him, expression drawn tight and serious compared to the playful swagger he had moments ago. He doesn't want to crowd the patient, but Christ, he looks so sad.

The auburn haired male just sniffles at first, before smiling at his stuffed animal. He sits Mitch back against the pillow and sheet before finally meeting Roman's concerned gaze. "Y-You're just too good, Roman…too good for this world, too good to be dealing with this shit. Hell, you're too fuckin' good to be takin' care of a murderer like me."

"Dean, stop, please-"

"No!" Dean says sharply, his voice becoming icy as he clutches his arms around himself, flinching away from Roman and the orderly feels like someone has doused him with an ice shower. Because Dean has never, EVER cowered away from him. "You, fuck…you can't…" He starts rocking then, beginning to sob, and his breathing becoming labored.

Roman just might have to medicate him tonight, which was a rare occurrence to put it lightly. "Please, it's…just breath, okay?"

"Fuck, you…n-no one's ever…why you doin' this shit for me, huh? Yeah you gotta look after me cuz it's your job, but….this shit, being so sweet to me…d-don't make a lick of sense." He stops rocking then, leg jiggling violently against the padding floor as Roman ducks in close. "G-Get away!"

"Dean, PLEASE!"

"No, NO!" He's screaming then, rearing back to lunge or scratch or bite at Roman and in that moment, eyes wild and lost Roman thinks of hitting the panic button, thinks of getting out of there as soon as possible. But he doesn't. Doesn't even put his arms up in defense because if Dean wants trust, he'll get it.

The scratch doesn't hurt too badly, just a light sting really, and the wound barely bleeding but Dean is silent and wide-eyed as if the scent and sight of blood has snapped him out of his little trance. Trances that, unbeknownst to Roman, were what permitted Dean to dismantle his victims without hesitation.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm sosososorry, ugh, I d-didn't mean to be a bad boy…'m good, I-I'll be good…" Dean sobs, cowering away as he shoves his face way from Roman against the padded wall almost too roughly, too forcefully where Roman is afraid he'll hurt himself. The words though, they haunt him just as much as the strange contortions of Dean's body. Because it's side like a child, like it's something he was forced to rehearse time and time again and goddammit Roman wants to tear the people who have hurt Dean limb from limb.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, look, its okay…" Roman gently slides next to him, trying to remain calm despite his heart hammering, his hands sweating as he slowly slips an arm around Dean's torso, gently pulling the smaller male away from the wall. "…it's just a small scratch, yeah? Won't even leave a scar."

" 'm sorry…" It's a weak little peep, Dean afraid to meet the orderly's gaze. It was one of the worst episodes Roman has to have witnessed and Dean knows he has to be disgusted, has to be afraid.

"Look at me."

" 'msosorry."

"Please, look at me…" It's barely above a whisper and Dean slowly tilts his head to the side and back, half meeting the Samoan's silver gaze. The both take in shaky breathes before Roman smiles at him. "…I'm doing this because I love you."

Something shatters in Dean at that. Maybe its years of repression or resolve or his rough exterior, but he's suddenly straddling Roman's lap, nuzzling the older male. He can't say the words, doesn't really know how without it coming out hallow or wrong because in the past those who he has said it to it was never truly genuine. No, no, it was a tainted phrase when it left his own tongue but he still needed to give this wonderful man something.

"D-Dean?"

"Shh." He whispers before leaning up, nuzzling at the juncture of Roman's shoulder and neck, ghosting thin lips over dark ink before he kisses there. And then higher and higher before he stops right at hovering over his lips.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Dean?" Roman knows he shouldn't, but fuck it. For once he's beyond grateful that the monitor is turned off, Seth's voice echoing 'anything he needs' in the back of the orderly's mind providing him a bit of solace.

"Mmmhmm." It's soft, almost demure as Dean lays a cool hand against Roman's chest, nuzzling his head there. "…w-wanna kiss you…" It's such a simple request and he obliges.

Soft meeting of lips, their hands never drifting below the waist despite their hips flushed against one another. Dean isn't ready to be bare, not quite yet ready to give that to Roman, but he knows one day he will be when the older male slides his tongue out playfully.

The first contact of tongue on tongue and they're lost, bodies gyrating in unison as Dean pants, body too sensitive and alight because for once lips and hands and tongues don't hurt. But they do burn, burn with pleasure and passion as Roman rubs at the back of his neck, as he licks the taste of anti-psychotic pills out of Dean's mouth and replaces it with human sex and love and a faintly minty sweetness.

Impatient hands tug at the tie of Roman's hair, the essence of coconut filling the inner bubble of space that is only theirs to share. Their scent. Their bodies. Their love.

Dean comes in his pants after two minutes of jagged undulations against Roman's hip with a shuddering sob as Roman kisses him through it, from his lips to his forehead to his eyelids. He even hazards a soft hickey on that pale chest, the v-neck of the scrubs barely covering it.

"It's okay, there you go, babe…there you go…comin' all sweet for me, huh?" The older male whispers sweet and hot in Dean's ear as he comes, petting at his sides as he continues rambling and gasping out his pleasure in nonsensical terms.

"N-Neve..r…never…s-so good…" It's broken and soft and small, so unlike the image Dean parades around, but it's so lovely, so honest and true to his sexual prowess. Never having true pleasure like this, never having someone hold him so close, tell him he loves him and he means it.

Roman holds him after, knowing his shift will end too soon for his own likening as he pets at the younger male's hair. He's drifting in and out, starting to find a leave of peace and calmness that has never been achieved prior and the Samoan can't help but be proud. And more than a little possessive, because he will be damned if Dean is ever given less than this, less than love.

Yeah, the line between sanity truly is starting to blur.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Author's Note: This chapter is a little different, but I hope you guys still enjoy it. I promise there will be a lot more sweet Ambreigns angst to come, but I wanted to establish more about Dean's progress for this particular chapter. As always, reviews greatly appreciated!**_

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"I thought it would be a good idea to email you a dossier of all the night owl patients that will be in the playroom with Dean." Doctor Rollins explained over Roman's phone that sat on his kitchen counter, speaker on as he makes himself a sandwich.

The auburn haired male had been making immense progress and as such, Seth thought it would be good to have him involved with other patients, even if only for short periods of time, and of course with Roman present and the doctor easily reachable.

"That sounds fine, yeah, but…you 100% sure Dean is okay with this?" Roman licks a bit of mustard off his finger as he snags his phone, making the short trip to his 'office' space, which was just a small corner in his tiny living room where he set up his computer and kept a desk full of paperwork and whatnot.

"I believe so. If worse comes to worst I'll have another orderly on that floor that will be in charge of the other night owls in case you need to escort Dean back to the solo playroom or his own bedroom, if need be." The cover a little bit more in that brief phone conversation, Seth updating Roman on some of Dean's progress in their sessions, and more protocol for the group playroom session.

Roman pulls up the email from Seth shortly after their call ends, getting a brief rundown of the patients that he would also be in charge of watching for that night. Some things were confidential and as such were marked out and stamped across in red text as such, but there was still ample information for him to pull from.

Dean would be joined by a few other patients, all male. While the asylum was co-ed in some instances, save for bedroom arrangements, Seth knew that Dean has a bit of anxiety around women more than men. Additionally, he did have some experience with day to day interactions with women, as there were a few female security guards, nurses, and chefs on staff. Whereas Roman, Seth, Dustin, and couple other male nurses who Roman had never met were Dean's only interaction with men.

The first one Roman has heard a few things from Dustin about. Jack Swagger, his name is. He's an honorably discharged military medic who lost his left leg, but he's adjusted well to the prosthetic. He suffers heavily from PTSD, severe episodes of hallucinations and flashbacks. Although the details are hazy, Jack was kidnapped and tortured, but wouldn't break. When he was finally found he was nearly septic from the wounds administered which caused his leg from the knee down to be amputated.

From what Dustin told him, Swagger has made immense progress and may be able to return to his wife and children before the end of next year, but he was first admitted following a Fourth of July celebration. Although he was watching the fireworks from a distance, the sound and noise…he had accidentally harmed his wife somehow following a very vivid flashback. Despite her forgiving him and still coming to visit and them still very much married and her skyping their kids in from the grandmother's house, he supposedly still beats himself up over it. Poor sap.

Next was Tyler Breeze. So full of himself that he put Narcisse to shame. So obsessive that he found himself above everyone else, above doing work, but also developed an eating disorder as an attempt to keep with the unattainable body image his vanity manifested. Physically he was harmless, only a danger to himself, and kept a compact mirror on his person at all times to make sure his appearance was up to par.

There was also Bo Dallas. On the surface he appeared to be just a chipper fellow, but due to repression of a dark childhood with a miscreant older brother that is current MIA, he's developed intense mood swings. Beneath a bright, big smile, at any moment, he could have the urge to hurt or kill himself.

And finally, Kevin Owens. Not much on him as he's a recent admission to the asylum, but so far he seems to snap angrily without much provocation. He wasn't necessarily physical violent, but screaming and shouting and when push came to shove it wasn't unheard of for him to throw a punch. Just rare.

It was a small, modest mismatched group, but Roman figured the diversity of them would be good exposure for Dean. Or it could end horribly. Either way he was willing to give it a shot if it meant significant progress for Dean.

"Nice to meet you, Dean…I'm Jack." A huge blonde with a tightly cropped undercut said as Dean entered the 9th floor playroom, Mitch firmly in one hand and the Polynesian coloring book in the other. He simply stared, huffing out an annoyed 'hi' before sitting at the table farthest from Jack. The blonde's face fell then, before he shrugged, continuing to scribble down something on the notepad he had.

Roman lets out a deep sigh from the corner he's at. Dean had been in a pissy mood since the beginning of his shift, continuing to be pissy now as the other patients filtered in. Bo sat at the same table with Jack, put opted to pop the Little Mermaid into the flat screen close to the table, his focus firmly on it as the movie began.

Tyler sat at the table opposite of Bo and Jack, giving the duo a slight once over, doing the same in the direction of Dean, before beginning to brush his shoulder length, straight blonde hair. He seemed to be in his own world, paying no mind to anything else, which is about what Roman expected from him.

Kevin is in next and to Roman's surprise, he plops down right in front of Dean, propping his legs up on the table with a rather smug expression. Friend or foe? He couldn't tell at first and Dean shifts a little, irritation showing on his face as he works on coloring in an intricate pattern.

"Deano, huh…?" Kevin snarks a little and Roman wants to roll his eyes, because goddamn this guy was pushing Dean's buttons. The grip on the colored pencil grew tighter as Kevin snorted. "…dude, do you have a stuffed bunny? How old are you?"

The orderly blanches at that as Dean stops coloring all together, clutching Mitch tightly to his chest as Kevin starts to snicker. Just when Dean looks like he's going to sock the other man straight in the jaw and as Roman takes a few steps towards them, Jack calls over there.

"Kevin, would you chill, dude? Leave the guy alone!" Jacks calls over from the other table, before getting up and taking a quick stride across the room. Roman is already behind Dean's seat at this point, the younger male relaxing slightly but still twitched as Kevin smirks at him.

"What ya gonna do about it, big man?" Jack looms over him with an unimpressed expression before pointing off to the side.

"I want this seat now. Move." It's tense, but Jack is stubborn and unwavering, gaze more sympathetic to Dean than hostile to Kevin and the heavier male rolls his eyes before standing up and slamming the chair into the table.

The tall blonde jumps slightly, the loud noise clearly unsettling him for a moment before he shoots Dean a wide grin, flopping down next to him as Owens trots off to grab an apple from a tray of snacks the kitchen staff and sent up.

"That's really cool, man…" Jack stares with wide as at what Dean's coloring, gawking a little. Roman's patient shifts a little then, looking still just as tense and nervous as Jack tries to talk with him a little. "…I never was really good at coloring, y'know? Even as an adult…it's hard to get it between the lines." As the veteran rambles on, though, Roman is pleased to see Dean relaxing, even beginning to talk back a little.

"I used to use markers and stuff, but you can't blend with 'em. So I tried crayons for a while, but…c-colored pencils are the best." He seems a little stunned at his boldness as well, firmly nipping at Mitch's ear again after speaking, and shyly staring back down on at his book.

The older male is just fine with that, standing for a moment so grab a banana from the snack tray before grabbing a chocolate chip cookie, too. He offers the cookie to Dean which, to Roman's pleasant surprise he takes with a quiet 'thank you'.

It seems small on the surface, but it's anything but. Roman could almost cry if he wasn't tasked with watching over all these patients at this moment because he was so proud. Dean interacting with others, being able to be civil, even to a stranger's polite offering. It meant so much and spoke volumes. Just a few months ago Dean would have bit and scratched at any orderly or nurse who so much as looked at him funny, but here he was able to make small talk with other patients. He even handled a tense situation without trying to claw someone's eyes out.

Before the end of the night, Dean gets a small compliment for Tyler, who calls him 'not a complete uggo', Bo talks to him for a moment but eventually Roman has to separate him because he keeps on trying to touch or hug Dean which is obviously off limits, and even Owens begrudgingly apologies for making fun of Mitch. But Jack is the easiest going and appears to understand a bit more mentally what's going on and keeps it casual and calm around Dean as best he can.

Dean talks excitedly on the way back to his room about the friends he made, Roman only having about twenty minutes left in his shift, but considers tonight to be a major success in Dean's development, even without much input on his behalf. Seth recommended as such, to be there and present but to not enforce too much and simply provide Dean an anchor to lean on.

With the remaining time left, Roman rubs that coconut oil into Dean's hair. The scent has become a bit intoxicating for both, reminding them of that faithful night where they touched and kissed and Dean leans up, stealing a soft kiss from the orderly. "Thank you…" He coos softly, nuzzling him for a moment.

Roman rocks him then against the plush wall of his room until he drifts fast asleep, dreams full of large and loving hands once more.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Author's note: Warning, this is a very, very heavy chapter. It touches more explicitly on Dean's childhood so warning for that. More will be explained in the next chapter, but I hope you all enjoy this update! As always, reviews welcomed and very appreciated!**_

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"I want to push Dean a little further tonight." Seth says as Roman enters into the asylum for his shift. He isn't even fully done locking up his person belongings when the doctor slides into the locker room, looking absolutely pleased with the situation.

"You've been saying that a lot lately." Roman begins as he pins his hair up, turning to face the doctor with an unimpressed expression. "I just…I know Dean's been respondin' well, just don't know if it's good to push him too far."

A hand is laid firmly on Roman's shoulder than as the two make it towards the elevator, Seth giving the orderly a full, gap-toothed grin. "And that's why you're in charge of him, Roman. You want him safe and happy, but unfortunately the path to recovery is rarely ever a happy one. It's laced with tragedy and setbacks and pain."

Roman grimaces then, beginning to rub his hands together nervously as the elevator moves. He's seen these setbacks, this pain, firsthand. It's awful, terrible to see Dean's mind and past try to destroy him from the inside out, but in order to unlock the past, for him to find some semblance of freedom and independence.

"It's not all bad, though. With the pain comes progress and growth." Seth reassured him as they made it to the tenth floor, the doctor motioning for Roman to follow.

"Yeah, you're right." Roman smiles fondly then, remembering how just last week Dean allowed Bo to actually give him a hug. Sure, the auburn haired patient was a little irritated, but accepting such a sign of physical affection so effortlessly from someone not Roman and without lashing out was…impressive to say the least.

They retrieve the patient from his padded room, Dean excitedly bopping up and down as they made their way to the elevator. "We don't normally have sessions at night, but…i-if you're there, Ro, then it'll be okay, yeah?" He whispers Roman than anything else with Mitch closely held against his chest.

Roman can sense the tension, not only from Dean but from himself and even Dr. Rollins. It's as if there's something in the air, like the very asylum itself knows that this rare nightly session will be something intense.

When they arrive to Dr. Rollins office, Dean sits at the couch opposite Seth's desk, Roman opting to stand behind the couch, to ensure Dean isn't distracted, but could still feel the orderly's presence.

"Now, Dean, why don't we start from where we left off, hmm? You started working part time as a piercer in Cleveland, correct?" Roman already knows this about Dean, the patient having shown him the holes in his ears where he pierced himself. They holes are clean and clearly done professionally, so Roman is still impressed.

"Yeah, it was a decent gig, y'know? Made a lotta extra doe on the side for customers that wanted a lil' extra, too…" Dean's voice grows quiet at that, looking down at his hands. Roman knows what he means and it makes the orderly's jaw clench. He shouldn't have had to do that.

"What do you mean by that, Dean?" Forcing him to say it, to confront his past.

"I sucked a few dicks, eat some snatch…I-I needed the money. 'S the only way I could eat. Piercers don't make a lotta dough. But my boss let me stay in the back on a cot if he was one of the dicks I sucked, y'know? It was better than nothin'." Wrong, so wrong and so unfair but Roman says nothing, because his place here is to support, to be a failsafe. It pains him not to hold Dean close, not to shield him from all the pain the patient has experienced, but he'll still be there as much as possible.

"Were these acts…were they all consensual, Dean?"

"Yeah."

Seth nods then, satisfied with the immediate response. He reads that Dean is more ashamed of that part of his life than fearful of it, but he decides to reassure him regardless. "You know, Dean, you tried your hardest to make something work for yourself. You stayed there for several months and in that time you…didn't harm anyone else. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

The patient nods his own response, still staring down at his hands. His shoulders hunch forward after a moment, rubbing at the pale white scrubs before Seth continues.

"So, being a piercer was your last job before you came here, wasn't it?"

"….yes." It's a cold response and Roman can feel a small tremble in Dean's voice, wants to touch and hold him, but he makes eye contact with Seth over Dean's head and knows he still has to sit out.

"Would you like to tell me about what happened between being a piercer and now, Dean?" Seth's voice is devoid of any particular emotion, monotone to the best of the doctor's ability.

"I-I dunno, doc…heh…" Dean chuckles and it sounds wrong, inappropriate even, especially when Roman notices there's tears forming in the patients eyes. Roman clenches his fists as tightly as his jaw then, pretty sure he can feel his teeth grinding together.

"I think you do, know, Dean, and I think its best we talk about this." He insists, because Dean is so close, so close to admitting to and discussing the even that lead him to the asylum.

"Y'know, how about not?" Dean shots up then, beginning to pace back in forth in front of Seth's desk, eyes wide and getting a little wilder as he does so, but there's a firm Roman in front of the door and the patient knows he truly can't leave.

"I know this is hard, Dean, but maybe we can talk about going back to Cincinnati, huh?" Dean freezes then, arms beginning to twitch and flex before he lunges forward.

Roman is over the couch in a moment, pulling Dean's arms back against his back in a painless, but debilitating submission move. The patient tries to struggle, before he begins to let out a loud, wallowing sort of sob. "We don't talk about Cincinnati!" He screams, loud and clear as Seth's large, brown pools stare in nothing but sympathy into his own manic blues.

"We need to talk about Cincinnati, Dean." The patient tries to push, tries to pull out of Roman's grasp and the orderly can feel his heart thumping, holding firm despite his own stomach feeling queasy. He has never seen Dean this bad, ever.

"WHY?!" He's screaming the question first, before he tries to desperately clutch and grab at Roman, but it's more for reassurance than to try and break out of his grip and Roman firmly presses himself against Dean's back, the patient's breathe ragged and broken but he seems to be regaining some lucidity. "Why?"

"Because I want you to be better, Dean." There's some wavering there, Seth's resolve breaking slightly as he sees the pain and anxiety of his patient, but he knows he can get through this. "Please, tell me, Dean…tell me."

"I-I came back home…came back cause I wanted ta see Ma and Dad…" His voice is so hoarse there and it's the first time Roman has ever heard Dean refer to his parents, ever. "You know what they said to me, heh?" It's a weird chuckle, sounding perverse and wrong as Dean's eyes still water up, the tears falling copiously as Roman keeps him secure and close.

"What did they say to you, Dean?"

"They…" His voice cracks, eyes scrunching up tightly as he trembles and bites into his bottom lip so hard that Roman is surprised it doesn't start bleeding. "…t-they said I was cuter when I was younger." He's hiccupping now and Roman's stomach turns, knowing exactly what those sick fucks meant and he wants to find them, to bash their skulls in for doing this to Dean. For breaking him all over again.

The orderly still holds him close, but now it's more of hugging his back then a submission hold and Seth says nothing, his own mouth trembling a little as Dean's sniffs filter into the air. He seems to forget himself for a moment, to fight the urge himself to hold Dean close. "Then what happened, Dean?"

"I-I had a gun…always packed a-and…I told them to stay put, that I'd kill 'em if they didn't and they laughed…the fuckin' laughed so I shot 'em both, shot 'em both in the knees so they couldn't run." The words were slurring as Dean spoke, coming out panicked and anxious. "They screamed and screamed and I had Mitch with me and they thought it was funny even though I shot 'em a-and...I-I heard…"

Dean's hiccups were getting worse and Roman released one arm completely to rub the back of his neck and spine. It's probably not the safest thing, but the orderly doesn't care because it seems to steady Dean slightly. "What did you hear, Dean? It's alright…take your time."

The auburn haired male nods then, sucking in a deep breath as he shivers against Roman, unpleasant and nervous. "…there was someone else in the house and I found…o-oh God, it was a little boy…and he-he…oh fuck, oh God…" He's practically vibrating now, all tense muscles and literally decades of hard living boiling down into a mass of a hurting soul. "…he looked like me, Seth, he looked like me! T-They were gonna use him…g-gonna use him like they used me!" He shouts then, Roman firmly holding him back in the submission hold. "I told him to stay put and cover his ears and keep his eyes closed and I killed them! I beat them to death with my bare hands and they yelled and screamed and begged for mercy but they didn't give it ta me. No, no they RAPED ME!" Shrill and broken and sobbing. "But they can't hurt anyone else, not with their brains splattered on the carpet where they let their drug dealers use me! NO, NO, OH GOD!"

Roman tries his hardest, he truly does, to keep Dean firm and close but the younger male elbows him hard in the gut, lunging at Seth's table. He doesn't hurt any particular person, grabbing at the various books and pens and starting to throw them and Seth presses the panic button as quickly as he can, but Roman already has him pinned to the floor.

"I'm so sorry, Dean…I'm so sorry…" The orderly keeps whispering to him, even as he medicates him, even as he straps Dean into a straitjacket and escorts him back to his room on unsteady feet. He sits there, even though Dean passes out under the heavy medication. Roman rubs the coconut oil into Dean's unruly locks like every night, but he doesn't miss the way his own hands shake and the way his eyes began to dampen. "...I'm so sorry…"

"'S ok…" Dean manages to whisper out through a drugged daze when Roman's shift ends, the orderly's eyes widening. "…love you, Ro…" Is said in the smallest of voices. He makes sure Mitch is firmly in his lap and gives Dean the softest forehead kiss.


	9. Chapter 9

Even though Roman's shift is over and even though he's thoroughly exhausted, he rushes down a few flights of stairs. Anger and anxiety from what he has witnessed from Dean mere hours ago filled him with too much adrenaline to use the stairs. When he makes it to the fifth floor, which is full of nothing but office space and medical equipment, he rushes down the hall to Seth's office. He really shouldn't be slamming his fist against said office door, but at this point he doesn't give a fuck.

"Roman?" Seth sounds beat, really, but after pushing Dean so hard and so far, Roman can't find it in himself to care. "Shouldn't you be heading home? It's been a very, very long night…"

"I don't care, we need to talk about what happened. Now!" His voice is a little too hostile, a little too accusatory and Seth's eyebrows draw down then.

The doctor lets out a defeated sigh, flopping back into his therapy chair before motioning for Roman to sit down, which he does. "Mr. Reigns…do you need tomorrow night off?" It's more of a threat. "Or maybe you need to work a different floor?"

"D-Don't…don't you dare… you wouldn't." Roman's voice cracks then, pointing a frustrated finger at his boss and Seth's expression softens, realizing just how upset and irritated the orderly is.

"No, I'd prefer not to. But you need to understand that Dean needed this…needed to be pushed."

"He was hysterical! It was like he was having flashbacks or something…I've NEVER seen him like this. I…that had to hurt him…" His voice beginning to fade.

"He has been much, much worse…do you know what he was like when he first came here, huh?" Low and secretive, and intense. "Dean was practically catatonic when police found him, Roman. He was there, holding that little boy in his arms and rocking him back and forth with Mitch, singling a lullaby to him. He was broken, Roman, completely and utterly. His psyche damaged to the point where the courts thought it better to lock him up for good, to shut him up then even bother attempting treatment." Seth's passionate, but his own voice full of nerves at the memory.

Roman knows it's bad, that Dean was tortured beyond comprehension, but the image of that particular scenario. Of Dean. HIS Dean being driven to such a state by people who shouldn't even be allowed to breath. It's painful to imagine. "There's no way causing him that much pain can help…" He knows it's a weak argument, but that face he made, those words stumbling from his lips.

"Mr. Reigns, I am his doctor. I have been his doctor. And I know what it's like to experience some of what he has…" The orderly stares at Seth then, silent as the health official simply smiles. "…you get adopted by a wealthy family, you're a genius and show promise. They don't expect rich, adoptive mothers to fondle their sons, do they?"

"I-I'm so sorry…I didn't know…" Seth waves his hand up then, pushing the topic quickly behind them. He keeps it private for a reason, has made peace with it and dealt with his former family quickly. He's found his own love, his own place in this world and doesn't need to give his abuser any power over him.

"On the topic of Dean, however, it took two years of litigation and paperwork and bullshit to get him in my hospital. And I refuse to give up on him. And I keep you around Roman because you are helping him recover. And because you're a damn good man." Seth smiles again at him then, more genuine, before leaning back against the chair. "You mean a lot to him. And it was painful. But we know progress is painful. But this…facing his past like this…Roman, this wouldn't have been possible without you. And I'm so, so thankful."

And with that, the orderly leaves the doctor's office after shaking his hand. He wants with all his might to see Dean again, to comfort him, and to support Dr. Rollins, but he does what the doctor orders and that's drive home and rest.

When Roman arrives back at the hospital that next night, he checks Dean's medical reports for the day. He always has, but since he and Dean became physically involved (which really didn't go beyond kissing), he ensures to check to make sure the patient isn't under the influence of medication. To his surprise, Dean hasn't been given anything and the orderly is relieved at that, but there is an asterisk at the end of the report stating to leave the straitjacket on.

He opens Dean's room with nervous hands, unsure of what state the patient might be in, but he's relieved to find him with his head laying against the plush wall, having fallen asleep with Mitch against his thigh.

It doesn't take much movement for Dean to stir, drool sliding down his chin as his vision finally manages to focus on Roman, letting out a large yawn. Roman slide down the wall next to him, wiping the drool from his chin. "Sleep well, huh?" It's said in a small chuckle as he places a few books down from the playroom, Dean nodding slowly.

"Slept real good…c-can't remember the last time I slept so good, y'know?" And that makes a soft, warm feeling bubble inside of Roman, especially with how Dean tiredly nuzzled his shoulder.

"I'm glad you did." It's a soft purr as he runs fingers through Dean's hair, the auburn locks clearly a little tangled then and the orderly huffs. "Mind if I brush your hair?" It's an activity they rarely indulge in and Roman is a tad nervous, still afraid of what the effects that intense session with Seth might have had on Dean, but he wants to make sure his patient is taken care of.

"Sure…jus' be gentle." Roman slides a comb out of his back pocket then, beginning to slowly run it through Dean's nest of curls gently. He knows from rubbing that oil into Dean's hair for months now that he had a very, very sensitive scalp. "Feels good…" He still sounds a little dazed, impossibly comfortable as Roman made his hair nice and tidy, the curls becoming looser waves as he relaxes.

"Good…" Roman hums, becoming lost in the rhythmic and repetitive motions as Dean began to hum, leaning heavily again him. He can honestly say he didn't expect their night to start off like this. The only thing that could make this sweeter is if he could take that jacket off of Dean and hold him close, but orders are orders.

He's so lost in the gentle slide of the brush and the deep humming of Dean's voice that he finds his own eyes slipping shut, beginning to hum along. Several minutes pass before he slides his own eyes open and he gawks silently. Because as he stares over Dean's head, he can tell his patient has become possibly hard, straining the white scrub pants and suddenly Roman's mouth is impossibly dry. "You okay, Dean?" He asks softly, before hazarding a kiss on the shell of his ear.

"Mmmhmm, you feel really good, Ro…" His head lulls back, soft, baby blue eyes staring up at him with a burning arousal. "…been dreamin' about you…" It's a small singsong and Roman smiles at that, smoothing Dean's hair back before placing the comb near the books.

"Yeah? What you been dreaming about?" Roman feels like he needs to do something with his hands because he's getting hot himself, Dean's sultry voice egging him on. He decides to rub at the exposed flesh of Dean's neck, the patient letting out a small moan.

"You touchin' me…making me feel good with your h-hands…" He gasps out then, nuzzling into the underside of Roman's jaw the best he can with his arms restrained. "…s-sometimes…I dream about you bein' inside of me…taking me…" Dean is trembling then and Roman is concerned, because he doesn't want Dean to push himself into a panic attack. Sex and affection…it's complicated for Dean to say the least.

"Hey, hey…it's okay…" Roman coos to him, because the trembling and huskiness of Dean's voice, it could spell bad things. Does he feel like he has to do that for Roman? Has to give himself over to him? Dean owes him nothing, not a damn thing and Roman needs him to know that. "…you don't have to do anything you don't want to, Dean, not ever again, you understand?"

He nods slowly then, the movement brushing his locks against the bottom of Roman's chin. "N-Never thought I'd ever be able to be like that…t-to ever have a choice. Even when I gave people myself, y'know, let 'em take what they wanted…i-it was to pay bills, to make money, to eat…b-but now…"

The orderly stays silent, deciding to kiss the patient's temple as his own eyes flutter shut, heart aching over the trembling words of this sweet, beautiful man that's been given too much pain. It's just not fair, how someone so clever and smart and kind and gorgeous inside and out has suffered so greatly.

"…n-now I can give myself to someone cuz I want to…" It's said so impossibly small that Roman doesn't register it right away, but as the patient shuffles around, slotting himself between Roman's outstretched legs it becomes very apparent as to what he meant. "…wanna give myself to you. Want you inside me cuz I love you…"


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: This story is beginning to wind down, but I hope you all are enjoying the ride and will enjoy this chapter! As always, feedback greatly welcomed.**

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Roman's eyes widen slowly as the words of his patient register. He loves Dean, absolutely is smitten and wants to do anything and everything for him, but...is this right? "Dean, I…oh, babe, I love you, too, but are you sure?" He licks his bottom lip, hands hesitantly ghosting over the outside of Dean's thighs.

"Yeah, real sure. Never met someone like you…never knew someone willing to love me and touch me…" His breath is shaking then, struggling in his restraints for a moment before tilting his head back and kissing against Roman's neck while he leans heavily into him. "…been dreamin' about you touchin' me…taking me…" He breathes out shakily, Roman finding his hands to be running up and down the inside of Dean's thighs.

"You want that? Want me to make you feel good, sweetheart?" He can't believe how breathless he is himself, the desire and love as he's come to know Dean over these several months. This man has quickly become the biggest part of his life and this offer, it's almost too much.

"Yeah…w-wanna fuck." The auburn haired patient just barely whispers, his body trembling before he shifts a little, nuzzling his head into the crook of Roman's throat. "Want you ta fuck me."

"Oh, babe…" Roman coos out, Dean stilling for a moment before the orderly gives him a patient smile, pulling him into a wet, open-mouthed kiss. "…gonna make you feel good, I promise. Love every inch of you I can touch…"

The smaller male's thighs splay open as soon as a large, warm hand brushes against his bulge. He's already breathing so heavy, pale cheeks flushed with color before Roman kisses him again. Impossibly sensitive, Roman can feel is thighs tensing as he ever so gently cups and gropes him, feeling the hard flesh though his scrubs and underwear around the bottom crotch strap of the straitjacket. "P-Please…I, fuck, Roman…want you so badly. Love you so much…l-love how you make me feel…oh God…"

"I'm glad you like this, baby boy…" He kisses against Dean's temple, then, still ever so carefully rubbing at him. It doesn't take long for Dean to basically begin humping Roman's hand, desperately bucking his hips as a litany of curses and praises in equal measure tumble from his kiss-swollen lips.

"More, more, please…I-I need…"

"Wanna be in my mouth, baby?" Roman coos, voice sultry and low as his own arousal builds. How someone could touch this beautiful body, get close to this gorgeous soul, and ever think of defiling it by not giving it pleasure and kindness is beyond him.

Dean stares up at him, those baby blues wide and almost lost in excitement and so impossibly turned on. "P-Puh…please, fuck…but, I…I want…"

"Yeah?" Roman chuckles, deep and low and a little dirty as he teases with the hem of Dean's scrubs. He gives his jaw a soft kiss, feeling the pressure of Dean wriggling against his bonds.

The patient swallows nervously, before whimpering out. "…wanna see all of you, please, I…" Roman gives him a quick, close mouthed kiss on the lips before pulling back.

The orderly undresses slowly, exposing copper brown skin as the gray scrubs are tossed over his head. Dean is propped up against the plush wall, blue of his irises practically swallowed whole by aroused, dark pupils. "You alright, babe?" Roman rasps, that heated gaze causing a tingly sensation to bubble in the pit of his stomach.

"More…can I see more?" Dean whispers, his eyes taking in the full image of the inked flesh, tracing it with his vision as he scrambles upwards.

Roman doesn't bother replying, simply sliding his scrub pants off and revealing his own hardened flesh. Uncut and thick, with a base of dark curls that causes Dean to drool a little. It's the most gorgeous cock he's ever seen and he wants, wants so goddamn badly. "You like what you see, baby?" Roman can't help but smirk a little as his lover, Jesus, Dean's his lover, looks so hungry. Knowing that this sweet, beautiful man who has survived so much torture actually has desire in his eyes. He unties his hair, black locks cascading down and filling the room with a scent of coconut. The Samoan knows how much Dean loves his hair and that's made even more apparent by those wide, loving eyes.

"Y-Yeah, I like it a lot…c-can't wait ta have you inside…mmhmm…" Roman slides down then, beginning to reach for the back of Dean's jacket and the patient stiffens. "…d-don't take it off."

"You sure, love?"

"Yeah, trust you so much…'m not worried…w-wanna give myself all to you. Know you'd never hurt me." His voice is so small, so soft and gentle as his head lulls slightly. "…want you to take me like this."

Having this much control, taking Dean restrained like this…it terrifies Roman to an extent. But those loving blue eyes, full of passion and trust. He remembers what Seth said, how hard it is for Dean to form meaningful relationships or be comfortable with intimacy in any manner. He…shit, Dean deserves this and Roman wants it, so what's the point of denying them both this? Perhaps it makes him immoral, sick, but frankly, Roman doesn't give a fuck. "Alright, baby…"

Dean lets out a soft, pleased sigh at that, wiggling a little in his confines as Roman slips his hands down to unsnap just the bottom strap of the straitjacket, retracting it around from Dean's crotch as he's greeted with the outline of his thick cock through the white scrub pants. "Oh god, fuck…uh…" His breath hastens and Roman quickly kisses the pink curve of his small lips until he's left breathless, practically drooling.

"This okay?" He asks, slipping his fingers under the hem of Dean's pants, waiting for a nod of confirmation before he begins sliding it off in time with his white briefs. "What did you dream about, sweetheart? What did I do to you, hmm? How did I touch you?" Roman's hands are deft but gentle, inching the material down, speaking his words soft and slow, deliberate as Dean nearly trembles.

"'m…oh, y-you…t-touched me between my legs…m-made me feel good…I…" It was so demure, Roman can't help but smile as he kisses Dean's jaw, sliding his pants down the rest of the way.

There are scars, old and sad and so wrong on that pale flesh, but Roman peppers them with kisses, before wrapping a lose fist around the patient's hardening length. "Like this, baby? Did I touch you like this, huh?" Dean nods again, eyes glazed over in some unreadable haze of lust. He's uncut like Roman, which makes it easier for the older male to bring him pleasure, playing with the loose skin on top before hesitating a lick to his cock head.

"Ah!" Dean's hips buck as his head lulls back. "Y-You ne'er…oh god, you never did t-that in 'em…Christ…" Roman simply chuckles, before swallowing him down. His cock is velvety and smooth, as pretty as every other inch of Dean and somewhere, briefly, in the back of Roman's mind he feels a bit of rage at all those that touched this part of him, that were so undeserving.

He brushes it back quickly, pulling off to suck at the top of Dean's cock once more, toying with his foreskin between his teeth just ever so gently to cause those wide, lustful eyes to roll back in his head. "So beautiful, baby, you know that? Fuck, you're so goddamn lovely, sweetheart…gonna come nice for me, aren't you?"

"P-Puh…please…" Dean chokes out the word, Roman staring up hotly at him and grinning for a moment before bopping up and down on his length for a few more times, not even bothering to move his head away when Dean bucks down his throat. He deserves the pleasure and Roman is all too goddamn happy to give it. "R-Ro…I…oh God…"

The orderly pulls back, wiping his slick lips on the back of his hand as he strokes Dean gently, feeling the tensing of his thighs with his free hand. "What do you need? Tell me anything…I'll give it to you, just gotta say the world baby boy?"

He seems to be floundering, eyes darting around and Roman thinks something is wrong, that Dean is regretting this for a moment before the younger male manages to focus, leaning in his restraints to claim Roman's lips in quite possibly the chastest kiss they've shared. "I…I…want you i-in me…please. Please, God…I want you inside of me."

It hits Roman, just how much this means to be. To be in control, to feel pleasure for the sake of yourself and not someone else and the fact this could very well be Dean's first time in feeling so is just so unfair. But there is some hesistance there, maybe, and Roman wants to make sure he's okay. "Are…are you sure, baby? I…we don't have to, I'm fine with making you come another way…"

"Yes, I, fuck, Roman…" He takes in a shaky breath, tears dotting his eyes that a tan hand gently brushes away. "…I stopped believing in God a long fuckin' time ago, y'know? But, shit, man…w-when I look at you, 's like…t-there has to be some type of heaven, right?"

Now it's Roman's turn to tear up a little bit, sobbing out before he pulls Dean close, hugging him through the confines of the jacket and he swears he can feel their hearts beat together through the material. "I love you so much, Dean. I promise to make you feel good, to do good by you."

"You already have." Dean smiles, a genuine and softhearted smile that show those precious dimples so deeply in the dim lighting of this padded room. Their padded room.

Roman eases him down gently, resituating the pillows so Dean is propped up nice and comfortably, before gently parting his thighs. He kisses and tugs at his cock a little bit more to get him interested once again, before sliding down lower and lavishing his balls. A sweet, pink hole with just the gentlest dusting of soft blonde hair surrounding his legs and leading up to his ass. A kiss to a scar here, a caress to an old stitch there, and Dean is a shivering mess once again. He leans in, tongue teasingly glancing against the rim of Dean's ass and the younger male jumps slightly.

"Your tongue there…R-Ro, no, 's dirty…I-I'm…'m dirty…"

Roman squeezes his thighs reassuringly, shaking his head at that. "No, you're not dirty. You're beautiful and precious and deserve love and to feel good during sex, baby. Fuck all of them, all the people that made you feel this way…" Dean tries to look away for a moment, but Roman doesn't stop. "…they're the dirty ones, not you, alright?"

He seems to hesitate, before meeting Roman's gaze again and there's something there, deep in those eyes and in the devious twitch of a grin that slides onto Dean's mouth. "You….you're right…shit, Ro, I can't argue with that…keep eatin' my ass, big man." It's a stark realization, something prideful and hopeful boiling up within the patient.

There's the Dean he loves and he smiles, waggling his eyebrows slightly before inching his way back don and delving in almost the most devilish of ways. He's basically sucking on Dean's rim, using that thick tongue expertly as his mouth caresses the sensitive outside, dipping his tongue in just ever so slightly. It's driving Dean absolutely mad, to the point he's swiveling his hips and crying out to just get a little bit more contact. He can only tease the younger male for so long, though, and pulls back slightly to pet at his hole idly before he nearly mentally slaps himself. No condoms, no lube. Fuck. "Dean, I…shit, I don't have protection…" A lightbulb goes off slightly, though, because he does have the coconut oil, but that would break any condom anyways.

"Dun't care…" He's practically a drooling mess at this point, eyelids droopy and relaxed as he grins down at Roman. "…wan' ya to come inside me, need it so fuckin' bad, please."

Roman kisses him quiet at that, nodding in assent. He's so focusing on Dean and his pleasure, but he would be lying if he said he doesn't want that, too, doesn't want to take him bare and make Dean fucking his. He rummages through his gray scrub pants, using the coconut oil to ease in the slip and slide of one, then two, and finally three fingers. He's rubbing diligently at Dean's prostate, that pale frame practically vibrating as he keens out.

"Feel so good, Ro, suh…so g-good, oh fuck me, puh…ugh…" Roman rubs some of the oil against his cock, the nutty scent filling their bubble and space as it always has, both men revering in it as Dean's cock drips against the material of the straitjacket, Roman rubbing his cockhead against the slickened hole of his lover.

"That's it, baby…" He starts to coo, beginning to slips the head of his cock in, inch by inch until he's fully sheathed and Dean instantly wraps his legs around Roman's hips. "…how do you feel, love?" He brushes back some of the sweaty auburn locks from Dean's head, kissing at his chin, cheeks, and lips reverently.

"Puh…perfect…uhn…" Dean's arms flex for a moment within their binds. Roman expects panic, but instead Dean greets him with a relaxed and pleased expression, as if the restraint is making this that much sweeter, that much more meaningful. Maybe it is. "Move, please…n-need ta feel ya, man, need it…"

He complies, beginning a gentle pace of grinding in and out, using one arm to hold Dean close and another to toy with his cock, and it becomes apparent to him quickly just how goddamn hot this is, how deliciously tight Dean is and how much he gets off at the pleasurable moans and downright sinful spilling of words he's managing to rip from the patient's mouth. "That's it, baby…" He says between sucking marks mindlessly into what little neck Dean has exposed. "…you feel good, love, take what you fuckin' need…"

And he does, grinding back viciously and crying out for more, directing Roman as he thrusts in and out of him and soon it almost reaches a level of violent love making, the wet slap of Roman's cock and balls against Dean's ass and in his sensitive hole is rushed, maybe even clumsy. Evidence of their love is this lovemaking, bodies hot and strained but so lovely, so raw and real. "God, uhn…gimme more, Ro, more, ah!"

It doesn't take long for Dean to come, spilling over that massive and powerful fist, but he doesn't stop his gyrations, eyes lulling and mouth gaping wide as he pleads and screams his arousal and orgasm to the heavens, yelling it out in vain against all the sick fucks that hurt him, that tried to rob him of the joy and ecstasy of making love. Of fucking someone you love.

Roman tips shortly after, a litany of praises assisting Dean's own of curses and it's so goddamn perfect, to feel so full and have evidence of something so good and pure and wanted inside of Dean. He doesn't let Roman pull out, begging for kisses he receives quickly and without protest.

"I love you, God, so much, Dean. What did I ever do to deserve you?"

Now it's Dean's turn to chuckle, gently butting his head against Roman as the older male settles in as a big spoon for him. "'m nothin' special, but…y'know, I love you, too."


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's note: This is the last chapter, but hang tight for an epilogue.**

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Roman hates leaving Dean that morning, the sun rising outside a cruel reminder of their limited time together, but he kisses him reverently, until his love falls back into a blissful sleep. Dean was so patient it letting Roman clean him, in letting his body be touched and loved just right for quite possibly the first time in his entire life. Dean slept for several hours, peaceful as can be in Roman's arms.

He cannot stop thinking about his lover, not as he clocks out of his shift, not as he says goodbye to his co-workers and nods his head in understanding to an incoming Dr. Rollins, not as he sticks his car into the ignition, and not as the sun slowly comes to view on the ride home.

No, he cannot get the thoughts of those soft dimples, of Dean's gorgeous sex, and of pleased moans out of his mind. Roman has completely fallen for his patient completely and utterly, his heart never quite feeling as complete and as whole as it does now. Oh, what he wouldn't do to be there, day and night, to keep his love close. He supposes part of him should feel guilty, but it's just impossible to when he thinks of that smile, of those auburn locks so soft to the touch.

Dean deserves pleasure, deserves to feel good, and Roman feels beyond pleased to not only give it to him, but to experience some himself with Dean. What a beautiful, tortured soul. But Roman is absolutely prideful at the progress his true love has found and that he helped in part of it. What an honor it is.

As Roman lays down against his bed, his dark locks wild and filling his nose with their signature coconut scent, he has never slept better. Never felt more complete than he has now. The only thing that could make it better would be to have Dean laying right next to him, drifting off in his arms just as he did in their room.

Meanwhile, at the asylum, Dean wakes up not to the sight of his daily nurse crew, but instead to Dr. Rollins himself. "Good morning, Dean…" He sniffs the air of the room for a moment, looking rather perplexed. "…smells like coconuts. Anyways, I wanted to speak with you."

He starts, beginning to unstrap the straitjacket from behind. Dean trembles a little, nervous as to what this 'talk' could be about. He was so caught up in their lovemaking, in feeling good for once and deriving pleasure with Roman he didn't even conceive the idea that the orderly would face repercussions. He knows he sucks at hiding his expression when the doc actually laughs a little.

"You're not in trouble Dean. You can relax, because it's quite the opposite, actually." Seth smiles as Dean gently wiggles out of the jacket completely, flexing his now free arms. The doctor's eyes travel to the top of Dean's neck, taking in the sight of a few hickeys there, the sight of his debauched hair and how he smells even stronger of coconut oil. He has his suspicions, but he supposes it's been true all along. He should have predicted this, seen it coming a mile away, but it's too late for that now.

"So what're ya here for?" He yawns, easily letting Seth guide him out of his padded cell and into the playroom down the hall. It's rather peculiar to be woken up by the head doc himself, but Dean figures that comment about him not being in trouble is enough reassurance that this isn't a negative visit. Seth simply gives him a non-committal smile.

Dean quickly retrieves his coloring book, the one with Polynesian tattoo designs, flipping to the last page. He's almost done with it, could probably finish the last picture today. It's almost bittersweet, but he decided long ago that none of these pictures compare to Roman's own tattoos. So maybe it's not so bad if he finishes. Maybe he can try and draw freehand and make Roman's tattoo from scratch.

Seth sits across from him, slowly adjusting his tie before he lets out a small hum before beginning to speak. "Dean, you have made astounding progress this past year, you know that, right? Like, absolutely amazing."

"I know, I know, I'm da bee's knees, doc." Although he does smile a tad, despite his disinterested tone. "Seriously…'s all thanks to Ro." The doctor doesn't miss how red Dean's face becomes when he says that.

"He's a great man."

"More than that…" Dean pauses from his coloring, staring directly into Seth's eyes, dark brown meeting pale blue before he speaks. "…h-he's like my angel…" He sniffles a little, eyes becoming damp. "…n-never thought I coulda….coulda trusted somebody like I trust him, y'know? 's…he's somethin' special…I didn't think I deserved ta be around someone like 'em. But he…h-he showed me otherwise. 'm so grateful you brought 'em to me…"

He's met with a soft, reassuring smile, something disarming and almost sad and so unlike Seth's normal, and generic 'doctor' smile. He lays a hand on top of Dean's giving it a small squeeze. "I'm so glad you formed this bond with him, Dean. I think…" He pauses, the patient's face contorting in confusion as Seth takes in an exasperated breath. "…I think it's time we talk about your next phase of treatment."

"…a-alright."

Roman arrives that night with an extra pep in his step and a swagger to his tone. There's just something pleasing to know you're heading into job where you're not only doing meaningful work, but around someone you so desperately love. He's smitten, and he'd be lying to himself or anyone that asked him if he said he wasn't thinking about Dean all day. Or dreaming about him. Or all around just consumed by him. He slides all of his extra effects into his locker, before waving to Dustin as he walks by.

"Hey, Reigns, you're on the ninth floor tonight."

"Oh?" He pauses, shrugging his shoulders as his eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Dr. Rollins got Dean on another group session with some night owls or somethin'? That's…weird. He didn't tell me."

"No, uh, he doesn't."

"So then I'm going on the tenth floor, to take care of Dean, right?" The confusion settles deeper into Roman's bones, almost to the point of panic and Roman can't figure out why. The sad, almost disappointed gaze Dustin gives him is really not fucking reassuring either. "I'm heading to the tenth floor, right?" His voice grows angrier, all joy and excitement from earlier leaking out as he looms in close.

"There isn't…there's no patient on the tenth floor anymore, Roman." Dustin says it with as little infliction as possible and just as it slips from his lips, Roman grabs his shoulders quickly, anger seeping out into desperation.

"What does that mean? Tell me!" He grips tightly, Dustin trying his hardest to calm Roman down, but just as the orderly's voice begins reaching dangerous levels he feels a hand between his shoulders.

Seth. "Mr. Reigns, please calm down. If you'd like to discuss the status of a patient, you speak with me. Don't haggle security. Unless you're looking to be put on suspension." It's cold, calculating, and Roman spins around just to be greeted with a near icey dark gaze.

"Fine. Fuckin' tell me, then." It's taking all ounce of energy within him to not growl.

"Not here. This is a matter better suited to be discussed in private. In my office." The walk to the elevator is a stiff and awkward one. Standing in it is even more awkward, the only noise between the two men being Roman's cracking knuckles as he tries to contain the boiling and uncertain rage within him. "Ambrose is alive, Reigns." Seth finally manages to say when they land on the proper floor.

It's such a goddamn relief, the worse not being possibility that he actually physically and visibly sags at the exhale of air. "Thank God. So I can go and take care of him, right?" Roman trots behind Seth who is walking possibly quicker than what normal social etiquette would require. They're in Seth's office in a matter of seconds and Roman still isn't sure what to think. "Uh, right?"

"Roman, Mr. Ambrose is no longer a patient here. You will no longer oversee nightly duties or activities for him as he has been transferred onto a new phase of treatment and rehabilitation outside of the scope of this asylum. From this night forward you will be in charge of the night owl patients on the ninth floor, along with two other orderlies. You will continue to receive the benefits and pay you have gotten up until this point. If there's any confusion, you can contact HR or schedule a meeting with a union manager." Seth sounds disinterested, droning on as he begins flicking over a file on his desk of a new incoming patient.

All Roman has registered is Dean isn't a patient here anymore. That Roman will no longer be around the love of his fucking life. That Dean is at another facility, with other people caring for him. "You…w-what?" His voice cracks and suddenly tears are falling, copious and fat and his face reddens instantly. "You took him away f-from me?" He can feel himself heaving, the doctor looking up in shock from where he's seated at his desk. "W-Why did you…I loved him!" He nearly shouts, arms gesturing wildly as his brain struggles to try and makes sense of the situation. "Why? Huh!? Why the FUCK did you let us get this close? Why did you…w-why didn't you tell me he was leaving? Why…why is he GONE? How…how could you do this to us? To HIM? To ME?! Huh? Oh, God…"

He buries his face in his hands, the scent of the coconut oil he had rubbed through his own hair earlier mocking him, teasing him of what they once had. The wispy and fiery passion soon to be a distant memory. The world feels like it's crumbling underneath his feet, like he can't get enough air in his lungs and there's 2-tons of bricks falling on his head.

For the second time that night he feels a hand between his shoulders and he flinches, ready to swing at the doctor who assigned him this duty, who set him up for this love only to snatch it all away. The pure hatred and violence melts into nothingness when Roman meets this other man's eyes however, those chocolatey browns damp with their own tears. "Oh, Roman, I'm…I'm so sorry. It was selfish of me to use you like I did. I…I should have known. In fact, I did know, I…I'm not sure what your relationship truly was and you never need to tell me. But…you meant…mean so much to Dean. More than you could ever imagine." He pauses for a moment, rubbing at his own eyes before he laughs fondly, bittersweet. "I've never seen Dean smile or laugh or ever feel as good about someone as he did you. Never. A-And it hurts…I didn't tell you because I knew it would hurt too much. That Dean would find out before it was his time to go."

"Where…where did he go?"

"To a new rehabilitation center that will help him to develop more social norms and proper daily tasks and possible societal integration. It's…it's states away from here, but…oh, Roman, he…he's made so much progress. He might actually be able to live a normal life. Have a job, do so many great things and it was all because of you. You were able to get him to open up to me in ways I never thought possible. All of your love and passion, God…" Seth pauses, pulling Roman into a tight hug. "…it made him capable of love. So thank you, Roman. For saving him."

"No…" Roman breathes out slowly, hugging the doctor closely to him. "…Dean saved me."


	12. Epilogue

Dr. Rollins gives Roman the option to leave the asylum with no penalties and an insanely early retirement, to transfer, or to remain there as an orderly for the night owls. Roman chooses to remain there, investing himself fully into the task of helping those patients see progress and success.

Over the following several months so many things change. His ex-wife moves close enough so that his daughter is only one a quick plane or train ride away. He visits them both more often and finds everyone is better off for it.

He decides to move closer to work, buying an old cottage that has a lot of things that need fixing, but he finds he's got a knack for fixing things across the board. There's a small farmhouse that's there on the property, too, and he starts to raise chickens to sell eggs at a local farmer's market. It's more for the hobby of it than income, plus the baby chicks are pretty damn cute.

Jack and Bo actually see enough progress in the next six months that the former returns home to his family and the latter gets transferred to a mental health housing apartment building to work on people skills and to get a job at a local library to integrate back into society. Roman actually gets invited to a 4th of July cookout at the Swagger household and obliges, bringing his little girl along who seems to get along well with Jack's own sons. And no fireworks, of course, but small sparklers seem to do just fine.

Tyler seems to get along famously with a new admitted patient named John, but who has an unhealthy obsession with dance to the point where he insists on being called Fandango. What isn't unhealthy is their friendship, which seems to help both men in growing. Kevin sees progress, too, and even seems to rekindle with an old friend named Sami who comes to visit him every so often.

Seth and Roman's relationship blurs past the point of boss and employee, a friendship blossoming there as they bond over good beer, sports, and a love for fitness. Although Roman doesn't think he can do CrossFit on a normal basis, he entertains the doctor at least once a week for a training session. He knows they've become true bros when he asks Roman to be his best man at his wedding to one Randy Orton, a southern guy that turns the normally well composed professional into absolute putty.

About a year into living at his little cottage in the middle of nowhere, Roman is greeted by a man and a woman claiming to be members of the state government's health branch. They give him a rundown of the fact they're planning on opening a group home several miles away from here, but must get approval from all homeowner within a certain mile radius. Roman signs the approval paperwork without a second thought because hell, anyone living in one of those is just someone trying to recover from some struggle, from some setback, and it's just in Roman's line of work to want to support them in any way possible.

After he signs the petition he finds himself flipping back at the Polynesian coloring book Seth had handed to him after Dean was transferred out. He usually keeps it sealed up in a Ziploc bag in box full of other memories of his true love, but he can't help but feel a sense of serenity and sorrowful passion as he flicks through the colored images. The end cover of the book has the beginnings sketch that resembles the top of Roman's tattoo and a small note from Dean: "To the love I needed so much that helped me when I had so little. If only we had met sooner or in another life, I would be yours forever."

Two years after Roman's moved into his cottage, he makes the small drive to the farmer's market like he does every Saturday morning in the warmer months, several cartoons of eggs in hand as he sets up his little table and chair for passersby to get some of the biggest goddamn eggs in the entire state. He's quite proud of this accomplishment, his doting of his hens having paid off in the oval-shaped spoils.

Bayley, a sweet young woman who sells baked goods and home-grown flowers has just arrived in her small van to set up her own table opposite of Roman. She has a partnership with the group home they opened about four months ago, letting some of the adults there work on her land as a way to get back into society and the working world.

Roman waves to her in kind, before trying to put his sign up for his eggs as he always does. His back is turned to Bayley, struggling to keep the sign up as he hears her give directions to whichever group home member she's brought with her today. "C'mon lazybones, hurry up and get those tables over here!"

"'m going as fast as I-" The loud clattering of plastic against the asphalt echoes as the resident of the group home drops the tables, voice stopping abruptly.

That voice. There's just no fucking way.

The orderly drops the sign, swiveling around on his feet and nearly knocking over his table and gently placed eggs as he takes in the sight of man before him. Dean. Oh, God, it's Dean. His hair is longer, coming down slightly to frame his face and cover more of his forehead, soft and an even lighter shade of auburn to where it's almost blonde-orange. That, and the slight tan against his soft flesh indicates he's been working outside and been exposed to more sunlight than ever. He looks younger, healthier and vibrant with barely any bags under his eyes and soft smile lines beginning to form to accompany those glorious dimples. More muscle definition, his waist still slight and sexy, but his arms are thick and his shoulders wider and more defined, muscle stretching out the simple black tank top he has on. There's an apron around his neck, too, and Roman can see the top of Mitch's fuzzy little head peeking out.

He's absolutely breathtaking in every sense of the word and Roman fights the urge to pinch himself, to see if this is some goddamn dream his lonely heart has conjured up, the perfect image of his love happy and healthy and everything he deserves to be. "D-Dean?" He can hardly speak and finds his breath really is gone as the younger male is in his arms in a matter of seconds, strong legs wrapped around his midsection as he latches tight.

"Ro, oh fuck, baby…" Dean sobs out, powerful thighs squeezing around him as he grasps at Roman's face and hair, running his fingers through it as Roman effortlessly holds him up, finally getting his footing. He smells strongly of coconuts, the scent rich and heady and bringing back so many passionate and painful memories that both men begin to cry, laugh, and finally resolve to kiss one another. It's sultry and wet, indecent even, and Roman hungrily claims Dean's mouth for his own, both pairs of lips becoming spit slick and swollen, tongues dancing in a dangerous tango. "…missed ya so much, fuck…never stopped lovin' you…never stopped dreamin' about you…" Dean is practically grinding against him and Roman doesn't hesitate to push back, the several years of abstinence and craving but one another rapidly toppling down.

"Me too, baby. Love you so goddamn much. Oh…" Roman is breathless, sliding his eyes shut slowly as Dean does the same, gently bumping their heads together. It's an intimate moment, accompanied by Dean's ever so faint humming of 'Hush, Little Baby' as Roman tries his hardest to get his heavy breathing and heart rate under control.

The moment is only shattered when they hear a feminine voice clearing her throat, grabbing both men's attention as their heads swivel to stare over at Bayley who is grinning ear to ear. "Wow. So, I take it you two know each other pretty well, huh?"

* * *

 **Author's note: And thus concludes our story of an orderly and his patient. Well...at least for now. ;)**

 **As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. If you have any ideas, prompts, or requests feel free to private message me. I cannot say for certain I will fill it, but I will keep suggestions in mind for future projects.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed this tale!**


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